


The Beginning

by ChronicallyOwlish



Category: Andromeda (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Crew as Family, Developing Friendships, Experimental Style, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicallyOwlish/pseuds/ChronicallyOwlish
Summary: Every journey has a starting point, and for Trance's mission to defeat the Abyss, it is the moment Beka Valentine invites her to crew on the Eureka Maru six months before they first set foot on the Andromeda Ascendant. Told in a series of short reflections as Trance gets to know the Maru and her crew.





	1. Maru

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of an experiment for me, so I thank you for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoy.

The Maru is not pretty, but Trance rather likes it. It’s boxy, bronze, scarred all over and looks like it's cobbled together out of scrap metal and mismatched parts. Like someone dumped the contents of multiple model ship kits on a table, jumbled them up, then told a different person to build a ship without pictures or instructions. And perhaps there were pieces missing, too, but it all worked out in the end.

It smells old inside. The air carries traces of dust and metal and oil though she wonders if that is just how starships smell. She has not been on many. There isn’t much need for the avatar of a star to hurl through space in a metallic box, no matter how well appointed it is. When she steps onboard for the first time, there are other smells, too—something savory and spicy in the room Beka calls the galley, a room taken up by a worn and scratched table with attached benches, and in the place where everyone sleeps, the air is thick and musty, as if someone has just woken up. The ship is comfortable and worn in, with a pleasant lived in feeling, but the most amazing thing about the Maru to Trance is that she breathes. No matter where she goes she can hear, over the whirs and beeps of mechanical things, the steady inhalation and exhalation of the environmental systems, like the ship herself is alive, and Trance has always loved living things.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Beka says after she’s had the one gilder tour and met the rest of the crew.

Trance speaks the truth. “I think it is great.”

She enjoys seeing new places and watching the potential paths her life can take at the start of a new journey. Some paths are clearer than others, more likely to unfold, and others are shadowed as if they lead into dark forests with thick canopies blocking the sun. But they are all there, unexplored and new, and full of excitement.

The crew is great, too. Beka is one of the most beautiful humans she has ever seen. By human standards, she is more handsome than pretty with her shoulder length blonde hair, gently lined face, and body that tends more towards muscles than curves, but Trance doesn’t see beauty the same way. There is an energy that flows through her burning as brightly as any star’s, a force of will that tells Trance exactly why her people chose Beka to help her defeat the Abyss. It's glorious.

Harper, too, is full of energy—nervous energy that crackles around him like lightning. He is a colorful spinning top that never stops spinning and a stream of sound that never stops flowing. He intrigues her. Chaos surrounds him and it draws her in as chaos often does. His eyes, sharp and blue, see everything, and within a few days, she knows she has never met a smarter person. At least, not one so young, and he _is_ young; his angled face wrinkle free and dusty blonde hair flying in every direction like he doesn’t care for it, but that’s not true, because she’s watched him carefully tease out those wild spikes in front of the mirror in the morning. This, too, she likes, because she has never had anyone to be young with before.

At first, she is unsure about Rev, because he, like all Magog, was created by her enemy, the one she must defeat. She doesn’t let her unease show as she studies him. Time has taught her to hide behind hundreds of masks to the point she is never quite sure which one she is wearing. She takes in the matted brown fur that covers his body, the long curling claws on his hands, and sharp snaggle teeth that show even with when his mouth is closed, and fear envelopes her. The Abyss has followed her here.

It’s his eyes, warm and kind, peeking out from behind a fringe of fur that tells her he’s different, and then she sees the triangular pendant that hangs around his neck shining silver in the Maru’s dim lights. He’s a monk; he follows the Way. His existence is a symbol that even a creature created by the darkness can find the light, and it dispels her fear and brings her comfort.

A week after she arrives, she sits on the bunk Beka has assigned her with her legs crossed and hands in her lap, willing stillness to come and closes her eyes. Harper’s blankets rustle above her as he kicks restlessly in his sleep, and Rev’s snores mingle with the Maru’s life breath across from her, but she ignores them. Behind her closed eyes is the Eureka Maru, and from it stretches a million paths, a million choices, and she searches for the ones that will lead this ship and this crew to their destinies. This is a new beginning for her, and for them.


	2. Rules

Starships have rules. She learns this day one. Boots must  be worn everywhere except the common room and berth, and you must keep them close at all times. The same goes for your tool belt and bracer—which Beka recommends she only take off her forearm to sleep because it’s her personal computer and communications device.

“Always put them in the same place at night so if there is an alert while you’re sleeping, you aren’t fumbling around for them,” Beka says as if nighttime emergencies are a common occurrence, which worries Trance because it is her job to keep Beka safe. To keep all of them safe. If she fails in this, she fails her people. In the final battle, Beka must be there.

There are more rules, those that govern the job she has to do, to keep the Maru breathing. She knows quite a bit about keeping things alive, but  very  little about machines. She must learn, so there are  flexis stacked in neat little piles on her headboard to read in the hours when everyone is snoring and she lies awake. It’s these rules that get her on Harper’s bad side.

One by one she devours the manuals in those first days, and when the ship is buzzing with life in the morning she finds Harper stooped over his machines in an Engine room that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since the Maru was built. A finger run along a control panel made up entirely of unlabeled switches and buttons comes back covered in a layer of greasy black sludge and she wrinkles her nose, searching for a rag, finding only the one tucked into Harper’s toolbelt. She wipes it off on her shorts instead of asking.

Harper, at least, is clean… mostly. A hint of shampoo from his shower this morning hangs about him, but his colorful, baggy overshirt and hands are already covered in dust and machine oil, and there is a smudge of it on his cheek. Kind of cute, really.

Question after question pours from her day after day. At first, he’s helpful. He’s as intrigued by her as she is by him and for each question of hers he has one of his own. Where did she come from? What she was doing on Segway Drift? Were all of her people sparkling purple pixies? Pixie is an unfamiliar word and it’s not in the basic language program she’s studying Common from, so she asks about that as well. The direct questions she dances around, skipping from one subject to another as if she isn’t capable of that kind of focus. He doesn’t buy it; not fully, at least. Eyes sharp, his questions become more refined with each pass, chipping away at her resolve. For some reason, under the intense and relentless force of his scrutiny, she wants to give in and tell him everything.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she decides Harper requires a close eye and a more guarded approach than the others. The mask of indifference and immaturity he wears is as sophisticated as hers, honed over many years for reasons she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t buy it either and doesn’t need her visions to tell her there's more to him.

Things change as she continues to press. “What about the filters, it says here that they are supposed to be changed every two and a half months, but Maru records show that you always change them after one?”

He turns his back to her, focusing entirely too much attention on the power relay he’s working on, shoulders tense. “I really gotta get this done. Can’t you ask someone else?”

She asks again and he heaves a sigh and answers, not looking at her, and not welcoming more questions. She has so much more to learn, and she needs to learn. Beka would be well within her rights to throw her off the ship, to drop her off on the next convenient drift and find someone who is more qualified.

And she will if it comes to it. Trance has seen it. There would be no hard feelings. In fact, Beka would leave her with what little cash she could, eyes hooded and shoulders slumped as she turned away. There were mouths to feed, jobs to do, and her crew needed to function. If Trance couldn’t function, it didn’t matter how much she liked her, she couldn’t remain on the Maru.

But Trance’s people will punish her if she fails to remain onboard until they reach the Andromeda Ascendant, and she is perpetually in trouble with them. The end result of failing on something so important… she doesn't want to contemplate it.

Another day, another list of questions and Harper snaps. She doesn’t see it coming the way she often doesn’t when events are small and directly impact her. She’s always partway in the distant future and not the here and now.

“Just go away and leave me alone! God, you never stop, you’re so damn annoying,” he shouts, looming before her, seeming much taller though they are the same height.  As he stomps off he kicks over a toolbox unfortunate enough to be in his way, scattering wrenches and spanners across the deck in a metallic clatter. She stoops to clean them, her gaze fixed the direction he’d stormed out and despite herself, her lips pull into a pout and tension builds on her forehead. He’s nothing more than a human child, she’s known him for less than a week in the way humans track time, so how is it his whip-like words sting so much?

That night she’s in her little Environmental Systems room avoiding Rev who’s noticed her poor mood. He’s offered her a steaming silver mug of herbal tea, asked her about the bonsai tree she’s brought with her, and tried to engage her in conversation a half-a-dozen different ways already, but much like Harper, she isn’t in the mood to talk. But she understands. The Way is about finding balance between the darkness and the light, and his family is out of balance, the tension an invisible fifth member of the crew.

Beka is walking by the grate that separates Trance’s room from the rest of the ship, unaware that Trance is inside. She does this every night: surveys each room and puts the Maru to bed before everyone turns in for the night. Harper stops her just outside. Trance tries to tune them out, to ignore their conversation—not that she’s overly concerned with eavesdropping. She just isn’t interested. If she pretends he doesn’t exist, maybe will soothe the discomfort he’s caused.

But he’s determined to hurt her more, even if he doesn’t realize it. “Boss, I can’t stand it anymore. You’ve gotta get rid of her, find someone who knows what they’re doing. She’s so freaking annoying. I just—I wanna to shove her out the nearest airlock. I never had to babysit Vexpag.”

Her skin suddenly doesn’t fit right. It’s pulling too tightly against her bones, making her squirm. She wants to run away and hide, but she can’t without letting them know she’s there. Maybe this is how the possible futures where Beka leaves her behind start. The crew is like a family—like what she remembers of family, because it’s been too long since she’s been with hers. Here, she’s the outsider, the new one, the one who doesn’t fit in. She’s not human, or Wayist; she doesn’t speak their language as well as she would like; and she doesn’t know how to do the job. If someone has to go, she is the logical choice.

Thoughts whirl around like a storm. She’s failed already, she is certain of it, and her failure dooms the Universe to darkness and destruction at the hands of the Abyss.

Beka speaks after a brief pause, “She’s a part of this crew and she’s trying hard to get up to speed using every resource available to her, which includes you. That’s exactly the kind of attitude I want on my crew. You don’t have to like her, but you will be civil.”

“But Boss–”

“Harper, I don’t want to hear it. You will learn to live with her, because I’m not throwing her off the ship because she’s a little too eager to learn and you’re too impatient to teach her.” Beka pauses for a moment and Trance risks looking through the grate. Harper is shifting back and forth on his feet reminding her of a beaten pet who’s still wary, convinced there are threats around every corner. Beka places a hand on his arm, and while he doesn’t stop moving, he calms some. “She seems to be about the same age as you. Why don’t you try being friends, offering to help her when you have the time instead of ignoring her until she comes to you? Think about it, okay.”

Trance turns away, frowning. She tunes out the rest of the conversation, closes herself off to the rest of the ship, as well as her visions, and hides in her mental meditation space, silent and alone.

When Beka enters the room, she’s distracted, eyes on a panel of switches and lights. Trance sees her, but doesn’t register at first, not until Beka turns, startles, and squeaks out a very un-Beka-like sound. Her brow wrinkles again, lines forming above her nose. Distracted herself, Trance hasn’t had time to pull up her mask.

Beka closes her eyes and sighs. “You heard.”

Trance doesn’t say anything, just stares off to the side with Beka in her peripheral vision. She wants to thank Beka for her kind words, for not dismissing her, but the words are stuck.

“Sometimes Harper forgets how small the Maru is. He grew up on Earth.” Beka pauses after saying Earth, waiting for something. Trance blinks Beka into focus, takes in her motherly frown, and frowns herself.

Earth explains a lot.

“Must have been hard with the Nietzscheans and the Magog there,” she says, finally, remembering that the Earth of the past has become a hellish place torn by war and destruction and ruled over by a cruel, despotic Nietzschean pride.

Beka nods. “He won’t hesitate to tell you how hard it is either, but I feel like he leaves a lot out. Listen, he doesn’t hate you. Vexpag, the person who came before you, was his friend. Harper misses him, and you are about as different from Vexpag as you can get. He needs time, but he’ll warm up to you, I promise. In the meantime, maybe slow down a bit? You’re doing fine.”

Beka gives her knee a pat, checks the console one more time and leaves Trance alone with her thoughts. That’s when she starts a new list of rules, those that pertain to her crewmates. At the top of the list she puts,  _ Harper needs time. _


End file.
